"How has your week been, up until now?"

While setting the table, I smile at my mom. "It's only Monday."

She rolls her eyes en returns to her casserole. "I'm aware. But we haven't seen you since last week Saturday, so obviously something exciting must have happened in that week."

Well, yes. I went on a date-ish and got closer with Alessandro and Gabriele, but that's something I would like to keep for myself, at least for a while. I have no idea how this will turn out, and if it ends how I expect it to, then I would rather not involve my family in it. They have problems enough.

"Jean-Marc raised my pay, if that's exciting." I try to keep a light tone, but my mom sees right through and looks at my dad with a conspiratorial look. Maybe something bigger than my lie is going on. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," my dad answers, grinning at my mom before attempting a straight face towards me. I raise the knife I was going to put in place and point it at him. "Tell me, old man."

His eyebrows raise. "Is that the way you talk to your dear dad? Old man?"

"If the old man doesn't quickly tell me what he's holding back, he'll be called dead man soon."

He shoots another look at my mom, who hides her amusement pretty well. She gives a shrug, motioning for him to tell me. Eventually, he relents, pushing away from the counter and standing next to his wife. If I didn't know any better, I would think he was using her as a shield against me.

"Still nothing to tell us?" he asks, as if to make sure. Getting a creepy feeling, I shake my head, holding the plate in my hands to keep from showing my nerves.

"What was it we heard from Liam? A motor cycle, a customer—a nice one at that—and he called you gorgeous. Is there more?" He looks at his wife, who shakes her head and is now smiling at my pale face.

I'm going to kill my brother.

Before they can start their questioning, or even utter a word, I am sprinting up the stairs, two steps at a time. I'm quickly halted by his bedroom door, on which I start banging with both hands. "Liam! Liam, open this door, you douche!"

Nothing. There's only silence coming from behind that door, and if I wasn't so mad, I would be worried. "You twat! Open the damn door!"

Finally, he cracks it open, just the smallest amount. I immediately wringle my foot in the gap so he can't close it on me, but when I look up to cuss him out for revealing my secret, I fall silent.

Dark circles play around his eyes, and the bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hand tells me everything I need to know. Immediately, my anger disappears in thin air and only concern and panic are brewing now.

"Liam," I softly say, "give me the bottle."

He swallows with difficulty. "You were here to curse at me. Go on, since this is nothing different from what mom and dad have told you, without a doubt."

How can he talk so smoothly while being drunk?

"No." I shake my head, disgusted by the idea of him thinking I would yell at him for giving in on his struggles. We all make mistakes, we all have flaws. "Can I come in, please?"

After momentarily hesitating, he opens the door he couldn't close anyway and allows me in his dark, messy and smelling room. For both his sake and mine, I walk over to his window and open the curtains, then the window itself. The sun has gone under, but the fresh breeze will at least carry the scent of liquor and sweat away.

"I only came to cuss you out because someone told mom and dad about my late night guidance home."

The tips of his ears turn pink. He looks away, but we both know he's the culprit. "Well?"

"You would tell on me, too," he defends himself. Then, softer, "They looked so excited to see me coming home, sober, and I didn't have anything else to tell them. It was obvious they expected me to have had fun, and I'm not saying I didn't, but I... It's hard to find energy to go out, let alone enthusiastically report everything about it. I just... It just seems like I run out of strength before I've even done anything."

This, I didn't expect. Didn't know of.

"Does nothing help?" I ask, the cringe when I realize the answer. He's holding it in his hands, and sadly lifts it as an answer to my question. I grab the bottle and throw it behind me, on his messy bed. "There has to be something else."

He hums, but not in a content or answering way. Instead, it sounds more like a scoff, as if my question and the mindset behind it is ridiculous. "There was something else. Vanessa, for one, and the garage. Now all there's left is the bottles."

A light bulb goes on in my head. "Would you like to work on cars again?"

He sighs, deep and loud and impossibly irritated. "Isabella, whatever you're thinking, don't. The garage won't hire me again, they've made that very clear—"

"Let me make a call. I'll be back, I promise," I tell him, standing up and walking over to the hallway. I close the door, because I don't want him overhearing my conversation and getting false hope.

"Hello? Darling, I thought you were with your parents. Is everything alright?" Gabriele's voice drawls through the phone, his ever so seductive voice doing wonders to ease my anxiety over Liam.

"I am. Alright, I mean. And with my parents. I would like to ask something of you, but you can deny it if you don't feel comfortable with it," I reassure him, biting my nails while I do.

"Of course. Is it okay if I put you on speaker, so Alessandro can listen as well? He's eyeing my food, but I think he's more interested in you." The faint amusement in his voice has me smiling, and another bit of my nerves washes away.

"Sure." I wait until it is confirmed Alessandro can hear me before starting my explanation. "So I've told you about my brother earlier, right? About how he loves cars and... has some issues?"

"Yeah. But sweetheart, I promise we aren't judging him. You have nothing to worry about," Alessandro assures me, quick to solve what he thinks is the problem. Though the words relieve me, I want to keep on talking and get this over with.

"Thank you. But actually, I was going to ask something else. Gabriele, you mentioned how you had some car projects, cars that aren't able to drive?"

"Huh? Yeah, I do. But I don't understand—"

"How many? How much work is there?" I ask, feeling my heart beat in my chest, faster and faster as I wait for his answer.

"I think there's about fourteen cars that need reparation. But it's so much work, and I don't think I'll ever get it done. Maybe when I'm retired, but right now, neither of us have the time for it, so those old cars aren't a solution for your fear to damage my driving cars." Again, they are quick to figure out what the problem might be and offer an honest answer. But again, this isn't my problem.

"What if I said I could offer you a high class worker that could do it for free? All of your work. You would have cars that can drive, and he'll have something to busy himself." 

"Is this about your brother? Darling, I don't think—"

"Please," I beg, not liking the direction this is going. "He's a hard worker, I promise. He won't touch a drop of alcohol while he's working, and if he has, I'll keep him home or you can call me and I'll bring him back home again. But he's really great with cars, and it would be beneficial for you as well as him." Please.

"Okay, but I think we shouldn't—"

"If he makes any damage, which I don't think he will, I'll pay for it. I can take on extra shifts to pay for the material he needs and—"

"Isabella. Listen to me for a second, here. I'm not saying no to your question, but I don't think he should be working for free. I'll happily pay for his work, and everything he needs. If you think this is what will work for him, then I'm completely okay with that. These are projects I bought for maybe $1000 each, and if they're fucked up,there will always be more on the market. They're cheap, because they're as good as ruined, but put the right man on the right job and they can look as good as new. So this is a pretty good deal for me. For us both."

Oh thank God. "Thank you. Seriously, Gabriele, I don't know how I can ever repay you for this. It will mean so much to him—"

"Don't. The cars have to be repaired anyway, and I probably would've hired someone anyone to do it soon. You don't have to repay me whatsoever, I promise."

That doesn't sit well with me, especially because he's lying. He wouldn't have hired anyone and saved the reparations for his retirement. "Maybe with another date? Not to repay but... as a thank you."

"Now, that does sound like a great deal to me. As for your brother, what do you say he meets us tomorrow at the shed? We'll discuss details then, but since it's a big commitment, he needs to see the cars first."

I blow a big breath out. "We'll be there. Text me the address."

With that promise, they hang up to eat their dinner, and I open Liam's bedroom door again. To my pleasant surprise, he is cleaning his room, getting rid of the empty cups, bottles and takeout containers. He looks up as he hears me coming in. "There you are. I was wondering if you'd come back."

"I say I would," I tell him, leaning against his desk. As though that movement is suspicious, he stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks slightly better than before, more put together. Him cleaning his room is a good sign.

"Tell me what you've got up your sleeve. I swear to God, Isabella, if you've just called rehab, I'm going to—"

"I got you a job," I interrupt, not wanting him to distrust me like that. If we ever send him to rehab—I don't have to act as though that hasn't crossed my mind before—it will be after a long conversation with his input. I want it to be a conscious decision of us as a family, at least the first time. If it goes downhill after that, that right of his might be revoked. But we aren't there yet.

The cups fall out of his hands. "A job? Where? At the garage?"

"No." I can't help but notice the way his eyes dim a little at that. "But it is the same, pretty much. The guy you saw guiding me home, has a couple of projects he can't finish. He wants you to repair those cars and make them look as good as new, with whatever kits or materials you need. He'll pay you for it, on the condition you won't drink before or while at work."

His eyes bulge out of his head. "Isabella..."

"I know it will be a challenge," I assure him. "Believe me, I've never thought it would be easy for you. But you just told me you get energy out of working with cars, and I feel like you have gotten better about this Vanessa thing. So it won't be the same as with the garage, and I have trust in you. I'm sure, if you want to tell mom and dad, they will have faith in you as well."

He sits down on his bed, gripping the edge of mattress. "When do I start?"

With a soft voice, "We'll go to the shed tomorrow, with them. You'll have a chance to take a look at the cars, since it's a lot of work, and decide if you think it'll go. Then you can discuss details with Gabriele, when you'll work and what he expects."

He looks around his room, suddenly looking a little younger. "I'll go take a shower, and then I'll join you, mom and dad for dinner. Don't tell them anything yet, I want it to stay a secret for the first few days. See if I fuck it up or not."

Because he doesn't, I say, "I believe in you."